Devil's Own Luck
by geekmama
Summary: Jack's past catches up with him yet again in the form of a most dramatical lady. PostAWE, JE, WE, JOFC, etc. etc. etc.Many thanks to Hereswith for editing. Chapter 1 is for the 'thief' and 'red' drabble prompts at Black Pearl Sails.
1. Chapter 1

_**o-o-o Devil's Own Luck o-o-o  
**_

**  
****Chapter One**

"The devil's own luck!" squeaked Favisham, cringing at Mrs. Favisham's scowl.

"_I'll devil you!_" she snapped, but curbed her ire when she dealt with Jack, much to his relief.

'Twasn't as though he'd _planned_ to clean up at Favisham's expense when he'd sat down to cards with him. Owners of the finest brothel in Port Townsend, the Favishams were, and Jack's winnings were equally fine: the better part of a week's profits (or so Mrs. F. claimed), and the hand (_Ha!_) of a fairer prize, a (reputedly) well-born virgin they'd acquired and had been planning to sell to the highest bidder.

Winnings heavy in his pockets, Jack trod behind Mrs. F., up the stairs to their best room, the one with the balcony overlooking the garden, with a view of the harbor beyond. The girl was there, sitting on the bed in a robe of red silk, her face white and set under the paint her mistress had no doubt insisted upon, eyes huge and dark, and curling hair the color of carrots, clashing mightily with the robe. Jack winced slightly, at both the affront to his sense of aesthetics and to the apparent youth of the girl.

"She's seventeen," said Mrs. F., having noted Jack's expression, "and she's been well-coached. You'll have no cause to complain – will he?" This last bit thrown at the chit, along with a baleful glare.

"No, ma'am." Her voice was soft and sweet, and shook slightly.

_Good God_.

"Mrs. Favisham, I—"

"You'll do right by her, I know," Mrs. F. said to Jack, adding to the girl, "Captain Sparrow is truly a _Gentleman_ of Fortune, Miss Arden. Youngest captain in the Caribbee and, besides bein' blessed with the devil's own luck, he's a real ladies' man."

The old harridan gave a coy smile, and Jack nearly winced again. "Miss Arden?"

"Arden Forest," said Mrs. F., dead serious.

Jack gaped, and then had to stifle a laugh. "As I like it, eh?" he quipped. The girl flushed, and Jack grinned, took off his hat and placed it over his heart. "_From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind_."

"Rosalind?" said Mrs. F., frowning. "'Her name's Arden!"

"Ah... yes. Well, in any case, I'll be _as true a lover as ever sighed upon a midnight pillow_. You have my word on't." He winked, and 'Arden' pinked vividly, a mixture of fear, astonishment, and (Jack felt sure) admiration on her pretty phiz.

Perhaps it would be all right. Seventeen was young, certainly, but not too young. Moreover, he'd had a virgin or two in the past and felt he'd learned from those encounters. Her fate determined, it was possible a kindly providence had led him here tonight, rather than some randy old satyr who wouldn't have a thought beyond his own pleasure.

Mrs. F. smiled benignly, and said, "I've no doubt you'll treat her well. You shall call me if you need anything."

Jack bowed her out, then turned back to the girl. She rose, abruptly, clasping her hands together. Nervous, poor chit.

"Would you like something to drink?" she said, breathlessly. "There's wine!"

"Aye, and you shall join me in a glass," Jack said, and followed her over to a dresser laid with linen, silver tray and goblets, and a cut glass decanter. As she moved, he could not help savoring the curve and sway of the nicely rounded backside beneath the red silk, and his fingers fairly itched to loosen the tie that set off her slender waist. _Patience!_ The wine would do them both good.

She poured, taking some time about it, then faced him, the two goblets in hand and a shy smile on her lips.

"Shall we toast?" she asked.

"Aye." He took one of the goblets, and raised it to her. "The sweetest flower in all the field." Compliments never came amiss in situations like this.

She raised a brow, and pointed out, "That's Juliet."

"So it is," he agreed and tossed off the wine.

"A little more?" she asked, immediately.

"Of a surety." She refilled his goblet. He sipped more slowly, watching her as she did the same. And then three things happened at once: he said, "Odd aftertaste to this wine. Bad year, maybe. Not like Mrs. F. to--"; as he spoke the girl had set her goblet down and backed away, an alert look on her face; and finally, a wave of dizziness swept over him, too strong to have been an effect of the libation itself. He frowned, a chill going through him. "Did you put something in this?" He lifted the goblet, but it slipped from his nerveless fingers.

He took a step toward the girl, whose hand was suddenly clapped over her mouth, eyes widening; stopped, swaying on his feet for a moment; tried to move again, and collapsed gracefully to the floor.

He lay blinking at the ceiling, until the girl came, hovering, all flames, with bright spots of color in her cheeks, and eyes as dark as night and cold with contempt. She spoke: "Poison I see hath been his timeless end."

Poison! He reached for her, gasping, "Juliet... no!" but caught nothing but air, then knew no more.

**o-o-o-o-o **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The _Empress_ hove into sight a league out of Cartagena and then the race was on. Jack roared orders merrily, and Gibbs had the Pearls swarming up the ratlines to lay on more and more canvas. Elizabeth gave a shout of joyous laughter to see Jack standing at the helm, doffing his hat to her, and drew on every trick she'd learned in the last six years to gain the win over the _Black Pearl_.

Her crew hauled and trimmed with a will, but in the end the _Empress_ was just behind Jack's dark lady in entering the harbor. Tai Huang raised his fist and let loose a bellow of chagrin at having come so close to the prize. Elizabeth doffed her own hat, conceding defeat (for now), and smiled at her son's excited efforts to escape his keeper, the long-suffering, but diligent, Monsieur Pontchartrain (a second cousin, twice removed, of the French comte himself).

"Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!" Jamie shrieked, struggling.

"Patience, James Turner," shouted Jack. "We'll drop anchor at the south side of the bay, savvy?"

Half an hour later the two ships were secured, anchored fore and aft in close enough proximity to permit easy coming and going for the crew.

"If you had a real ship we could lash 'em together in weather like this," said Jack, after he'd swung over and landed with a thump and sway on the _Empress's_ deck.

"You dare to insult the ship of your king, pirate?" Elizabeth tilted her chin at him, suppressing a smile.

Jack started to bow low, in (mock) apology, but had to straighten abruptly to field the whirlwind of small boy that threatened to bowl him over. "Whoa! Steady on! Lord, you weigh a ton – what's your mother been feeding you?" He hefted young Jamie with a bounce, and made choking noises as the skinny arms tightened round his neck with enthusiasm.

"I missed you, Uncle Jack! Did you miss me?"

"Was pinin' away for you and your mum the whole time, lad, give you me word."

Elizabeth said, "A likely story, considering how low in the water the _Pearl_'s riding. Your venture was a success, I take it?"

Jack grinned, eyes and gold teeth flashing. "Wait'll you see, your majesty. And nary a death or serious injury among either crew."

Elizabeth did smile at that, a weight lifting from her heart. "I'm glad to hear it. You shall come to my cabin immediately and give me a full report. And you still owe me and my ship an apology."

"My contrition shall be abject in the extreme, and most efficacious, your worship," Jack said, with a tone and look that sent a shiver of delicious anticipation down the Pirate King's back. Jamie was set on his feet and his keeper given orders. "Pontchartrain, take this imp to see Mr. Gibbs immediately, if you please. And I believe Mr. Ragetti is ready to continue that game of chess with you, the one that was so rudely interrupted by our departure six weeks ago."

"_Oui, Capitaine!_ _Allons,_ _mon petit pirate_."

"Six weeks!" said Elizabeth, as Pontchartrain took Jamie off.

Jack picked up her hand and bowed over it. "Seemed an age, love," he said as he straightened, and there was no hint of mockery in his gaze now.

"It did," Elizabeth said, her eyes soft.

"Shall we adjourn to your cabin? I am greatly desirous of beginning that apology. I fear it may take considerable time."

Elizabeth Turner, Beloved of the Ferryman, King of Pirates, and mother for five eventful years, blushed.

o-o-o

Two hours later, as the sun was setting over Cartagena, she was seated before her mirror, putting up her hair in preparation for an evening at the city's opera, and was still blushing faintly. Jack, who had finished washing and was dressing again, met her eyes in the glass and then came to her, feeling smug.

"You liked that, then?" he said. He bent so that their faces were reflected side-by-side, dark and light, exotic pirate and daughter of English aristocracy.

"I dread to ask where you learn such things," Elizabeth said, lifting a brow and blushing deeper.

He turned and she obligingly scooted over to allow him to sit close beside her on the vanity bench, facing the opposite direction. He slipped a finger under the edge of her embroidered silk robe, pulling it off her shoulder, and placed a kiss against the pale gold of her skin. "Make it up as I go along, of course," he murmured. "Can you doubt it?"

"I don't want to," she said, turning to him.

His arms slipped about her and he drew her close. "Fie on your doubting, missy. I told you long ago where my compass pointed, and that hasn't changed, save when you're with me. Bloody spoiled me for any other, as you well know." And he kissed her, delighting at the slight quiver that ran though her, quivering himself as she lost herself once more.

They were both of them panting again when they ended it. "Insatiable wench," he muttered, then gave a hiss as her wandering fingers found undeniable evidence of his own insatiability. "We'll miss the beginning at this rate."

"Oh, we can't have that!" she smiled, ceasing her explorations, to his disappointment. She caught his face between both hands, and said, very low, "I love you."

He gave a lopsided smile. "Dangerous words, darling." But then he bent close, and his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "I love you, too."

For a long moment each rested in the other. Then Elizabeth straightened, and took a deep breath. "Right then. The opera?"

"Your wish is my command, my liege."

Elizabeth stifled a giggle.

o-o-o

"Place hasn't changed in all these years," Jack observed as they climbed the grand staircase.

"It's a lovely opera house. I was so surprised when you brought me here, after Jamie was born."

"Cartagena's a great city, both for business and pleasure. Did I tell you about the time I was here with Bootstrap and this chit named…"

"Letty. Yes, you told me of her." Elizabeth glanced at him, sidelong.

"Timid little thing, but she enjoyed herself that day, what with the market, and players and all. Dressed her in boy's clothing, too – that tore her loose from her moorings."

"I know the feeling well," Elizabeth agreed.

"I know you know." Jack surreptitiously patted Elizabeth's heavily skirted backside.

"Do try to remember we're in public, Jack," Elizabeth said, primly.

"Pardon, your highness. I shall keep me paws to meself for the duration of the evening."

Elizabeth chuckled as they reached the top of the staircase. "You don't have to go that far!" she threw over her shoulder as she moved ahead, into the crowd.

o-o-o

They had a private box, and the opera was one Elizabeth was familiar with, _La principessa fedele _by Scarlatti.

"I saw it when I made my debut in London," Elizabeth told Jack. "Father shipped me 'home', to his great Aunt Caroline, a dowager countess. I was sixteen – Norrington captained the ship, and I cannot imagine why he was eventually inspired to propose to me. I was _very_ unhappy at being sent back to England, and let the whole world know it, too!"

"Better Norrington than I," Jack commented. "No patience for fractious females."

"Ah, but I doubt I would've objected quite so much had you been there. Or Will."

"Couldn't've wrapped _me_ around that pretty finger of yours." He picked up her hand and kissed said finger, eyes laughing.

"You don't think so?" She smiled, thinking of the challenge it might have been. "I could Will, though. I missed him – so much! We'd been playmates up 'til then, whenever we could manage it. But Father knew he needed to put a stop to that, if there was any hope of me making a decent marriage. By the time I came back, Will seemed almost a stranger." Her smile faded, thinking that two years was such a brief span compared to ten.

Jack squeezed her hand. "It won't be like that, this time. And it's not as though you _never_ see him."

"I know. But… four more years!"

"He loves you, Lizzie. That won't change."

"He does. He sent you to me."

"Thought I needed looking after, the meddler."

"You did," Elizabeth said, smiling again.

The lights came up on the stage and the pair gave their attention to the beginning of the performance. Jack seemed to enjoy the music, his fingers tap-tapping against the arm of his chair. But then, when "Rosana", a delicate red-haired soprano, made her entrance and began to sing, he suddenly sat bolt upright and exclaimed, too loudly, "Bloody hell!"

A group in an adjoining box expressed immediate annoyance. Elizabeth nodded to them placatingly, and hissed at Jack. "What is it?"

Jack had pulled his small spyglass from his pocket, opened it and trained it on the stage. "It's her!"

"Her? The soprano? You know her?"

"She's the one I told you about!"

"Letty?"

"No!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You've told me about any number of females from your past. Which one is it, then?"

"Juliet! Or Rosalind. _Arden Forest!_"

"Really? Let me see!" Elizabeth commandeered the spyglass after a brief struggle, and peered at the woman who was singing most expressively. "She's very good! And… why, she's beautiful!"

"Beautiful my arse," Jack growled. "She drugged me, stole me hard-earned winnings and locked me in a bloody closet!"

"So you told me," Elizabeth said, handing back the glass, "though you didn't tell me why."

"Why? What makes you think there was any reason beyond robbery, eh?" Jack said, defensively.

Elizabeth eyed him thoughtfully. "She must have been awfully young – she scarcely looks older than I am now!"

"Looks can be deceiving," Jack said, with some hauteur, and peered through his glass again. "And obviously are."

"What are you going to do?" Elizabeth asked. "It was a long time ago."

"Don't know. Demand me fifty guineas back, at the very least. Arden Forest. I'll Arden Forest _her!_"

"You will _not!_" Elizabeth glared at him, outraged.

"Will too!" Jack said, and glared right back.

o-o-o

It was several hours later and Jack's initial anger had cooled, though not his determination to confront "Arden Forest" – or Rose Fairbright, as the playbill named her. Accordingly, he and Elizabeth made their way through the crowds, and, by judicious bribery, managed to descend to where the actors changed into makeup and costume. Elizabeth was fascinated by the members of the chorus, now divesting themselves of bright garments and applying creams to remove their paint, but Jack pulled her along hurriedly, making an inquiry here and there, until they were directed down a dimly lit hall to a small room at the end. Rose Fairbright, as one of the principals, had her own dressing chamber, albeit a humble one.

Jack scratched at the door in a determined manner, while Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, wondering what would come of this. She soon found out.

A high voice spoke from within, light footsteps sounded, and the door opened to reveal a small girl, perhaps ten years of age, with bright, curling red hair. "Can I help you?" she asked, cocking her head like some curious little bird as she took in Jack's appearance.

"I…." Jack gaped, then collected himself. "Is your mother within?"

"Yes!" The sprite turned. "Mama! Can you come? 'Tis a… a gentleman, and a lady, too!"

Elizabeth's lips twitched against a laugh as Jack stiffened. He had dressed for the occasion, but could not be mistaken for a gentleman, even by one so young.

"Oh, dear," came a pretty voice, and mama's footsteps. Rose came into view, a light robe thrown over her harem costume. She said, "I'm afraid I am not at liberty to receive… " But her voice faded away, as did her calm expression, and then every hint of color in her face as she realized precisely who was darkening her doorway. "You!" she whispered.

Jack leapt forward, managing to break her fall as she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

"Mama!" shrieked Rose's daughter.

"Bloody hell!" Jack swore.

"Good God," said Elizabeth, entered the room and shut the door behind her.

**o-o-o-o-o**


End file.
